Page 36 of Curvy Cabin Fever

RHETT

M organ finds me outside.

I’m splitting wood even though we don’t need it. The pile’s stacked so high that the shed barely closes, but my hands won’t stop moving. It’s either this or pace like a lunatic, and at least this way I’m being useful.

He doesn’t say anything at first, he just picks up a chunk of wood, tosses it to the stump, and watches me swing. The axe comes down with a satisfying crack, and the log splits clean. I’ve always been good at this. Physical work, tangible results. Things that make sense.

“You’re gonna wear that axe down to a nub,” he says finally.

“Better that than my brain.”

He leans against the post beside the stack, arms folded, breath fogging in the cold air. He looks relaxed, but I know him better than that. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he says after a beat.

I slam the axe down harder than I need to. “I haven’t.”

“Rhett.”

I let the silence answer for me.

“You slept with me,” he comments softly. “And then you spent the last two days acting like it meant nothing.”

The memory hits me hard. His skin under my hands. The way he whispered my name. His body moving against mine in the darkness. “I didn’t say it didn’t.”

“You didn’t say anything .”

I finally look at him. Really look.

And goddamn, it hurts.

Because I want to say everything .

I just don’t know how.

“I’ve never done this,” I mutter, tossing another log on the block. “I’ve never wanted a man before. Never looked at one and thought...anything.”

Morgan tilts his head. “But you’ve always looked at me and felt something.”

Fuck.

I turn away.

“I used to think it was just...loyalty,” I explain. “Like, we grew up together. We’ve always been close. I figured it was normal to want to protect you. To notice you.”

“To crave me?” he asks, voice low.

I flinch.

He steps closer. “Rhett. We didn’t just fuck that night. You needed me. And I felt it.”

I remember the moment I finally gave in.

Both of us standing in the kitchen after everyone else had gone to bed.

The way he looked at me across the counter, eyes asking a question I’d been avoiding for years.

The way I crossed the room before I could talk myself out of it.

The first touch of his mouth against mine, and how right it felt after a lifetime of wondering.

I set the axe down.

And I let it come out, raw and shaking.

“I’m scared.”

Morgan’s face softens. “Of what?”

“Of what this makes me—of what it means . Of how long I’ve felt this and buried it under every goddamn excuse.”

He walks over slowly, stops in front of me.

“You know what it means?”

I shake my head.

Morgan lifts a hand and presses it over my heart. “It means you love me.”

My breath catches.

“It doesn’t have to be labeled,” he says. “You don’t have to come out to anyone. You don’t have to be anything. But if you love me, Rhett, stop acting like you don’t.”

I stare at the face I’ve known since we were kids. The scar on his collarbone from when we were twelve, when he fell out of the tree in his backyard. The warmth in his eyes that’s never wavered, not once in twenty years.

“I do,” I whisper. “I do love you.”

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years. “Then come here.”

He pulls me into his arms, and I let him.

Our foreheads press together, and his thumb brushes the back of my neck like I might break.

I’ve never felt this kind of peace in my life. “When did you know?” I ask after a while, my voice barely audible above the distant dripping of melting snow.

Morgan doesn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Sophomore year of high school. That road trip to the lake. You were driving, windows down, singing along to that Pearl Jam album. You looked over at me and smiled, and it hit me all at once.”

“That was a long time ago.”

He nods against my forehead. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

His hands tighten slightly on my waist. “You were dating Katie. Then you were with Melissa. Then there was college, and your dad’s expectations, and your whole five-year plan that didn’t have room for...complications.”

“You were never a complication,” I say.

He pulls back just enough to look me in the eye. “Wasn’t I?”

I don’t answer because I can’t.

Because he’s right.

He would have been. The son my father never wanted, with his health degree and his easy laugh and his complete disregard for convention—he would have derailed everything I thought I was supposed to be.

And now here we are. Both pushing forty, changed by time and experience. Both standing in the snow outside a cabin in the middle of nowhere, finally facing what’s been between us all along.

“What about Aria?” I ask.

Morgan smiles, warm and genuine. “What about her?”

“This changes things.”

“Does it?” He shakes his head. “I love her, Rhett. That hasn’t changed. And so do you.”

“I do,” I admit. It’s easier to say now, after the first confession broke the dam.

“So we make room,” he explains, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “We find a way to make space for everything we feel. For her, for each other. For all of it.”

“Is that even possible?”

His smile turns wry. “You’re the one who’s always told me anything’s possible with enough planning and the right approach.”

Despite everything, I laugh. “I doubt I was talking about this.”

“Maybe you should have been.” He reaches up, pushes my hair back from my forehead with gentle fingers. “Listen to me. Stop trying to make this fit into some predefined box. It won’t. This is bigger than that. Messier. More beautiful.”

“Since when did you get so wise?”

“Since I fell in love with my best friend and had to figure out how to live with it.”

The simple truth of the words hit me in the chest.

The years of quiet longing behind them.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “For not seeing it sooner.”

Morgan shrugs, the movement easy and forgiving. “You weren’t ready.”

“And now?”

“Now you’re here.” His voice holds nothing but certainty. “That’s all that matters.”

We stay like that, trading quiet words as the afternoon light fades around us.

I tell him about the moments when I almost knew, almost admitted to myself, what was hiding beneath the surface of our friendship.

The night in college when he stayed up with me to study, falling asleep on my couch with his head on my shoulder.

The weekend at his parents’ cabin when we went fishing, and I couldn’t stop watching the way his hands moved as he tied flies.

He laughs, fingers tracing patterns on my back. “Rhett, it’s okay. All is forgiven.”

“Is it?” I ask, suddenly serious again. “All those years wasted.”

“Not wasted,” he says firmly. “We needed them. To become who we are now. To be ready for this. For Aria. For everything that’s happening.”

I think about the cabin behind us. About Damien and Aria, probably wondering where we’ve disappeared to. About the conversation we had last night, the three of us, planning a life I never imagined possible until now.

“We should go back,” I say reluctantly.

Morgan nods but doesn’t move. “In a minute.”

“Do you think they’ll understand? About us?”

“Aria already does,” Morgan replies. “She sees more than she lets on.”

“And Damien?”

“Damien’s known since the first night the four of us spent together. He cornered me in the kitchen the next morning and asked point-blank if I was in love with you.”

I pull back, surprised. “What did you tell him?”

“The truth.” Morgan smiles. “He just nodded and said, ‘Makes sense.’”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.” He squeezes my waist. “He understands complexity, Rhett. Better than most.”

The sun has set, painting the snow in shades of gold and pink. We should go in and get warm, join the others.

But I need to say one more thing first.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I confide. “Any of it. Being with a man. Being with two people. Building something that doesn’t follow any rule book I’ve ever read.”

Morgan reaches up, cups my face in his hands. “None of us do. That’s the beauty of it. We figure it out together.” He smiles, and it’s the same smile I’ve known all my life, but now I see everything it’s always held. “One day at a time.”

I nod, something settling inside me. “Okay.”

“Okay?” His eyebrows lift slightly.

“Yeah.” I pull him close again, resting my chin on top of his head the way I’ve done a thousand times before, but now with new understanding. “Let’s go inside.”

We walk back to the cabin side by side, our shoulders bumping in a familiar rhythm. Before we reach the porch, he catches my hand, squeezes once, and lets go.

God, I love this man. Fuck what anyone else thinks.

I push open the door, and warmth spills out to greet us. Aria looks up from her spot on the couch, a smile spreading across her face as she takes us in. Damien glances over from the kitchen counter, his eyes moving between us with quiet understanding.

“There you are,” Aria says. “We were about to send out a search party.”

“No need,” Morgan responds, moving to sit beside her. “We’re here.”

I meet his eyes across the room, and for the first time in my life, I’m not afraid of what comes next.